Only Out of Habit
I offered you a piece of my heart,
and you dreamed of the day our hands might finally meet.
But when my account expired,
when my voice could no longer reach you,
you turned to anger
and cast me aside—
though you knew it wasn't my fault,
though you knew we were prisoners too,
locked inside a cage built by others,
imprisoned with our own love.
By the time you understood,
it was already too late.
Perhaps the knot in my chest,
the bitterness and the ache,
would never have let me forgive you.
Or perhaps it was simply fate
that the taste of your lips
would belong to someone
who never truly loved you—
someone who lays his head upon your breasts
only out of habit.
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